


Deathwishes

by Taniushka12



Series: Stories of the man who fell in love with the monster at the "unknown" side of the map (that also loved him back) [2]
Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Pre-Canon, Banter, Discussion of Death, Late Night Conversations, Light Angst, M/M, Smoking, as in lowkey fluff, wish there was a tag for light fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-15
Updated: 2020-05-15
Packaged: 2021-03-02 23:00:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,779
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24204790
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Taniushka12/pseuds/Taniushka12
Summary: A couple of friend discussing how they'd want to go, as you do, while sharing a night smoke on the Tundra.
Relationships: Peter Lukas/Mikaele Salesa
Series: Stories of the man who fell in love with the monster at the "unknown" side of the map (that also loved him back) [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1598566
Kudos: 13





	Deathwishes

**Author's Note:**

> listen............. the other day I was remembering Peter canonically telling Martin that he wished to die alone and like, who does that?? why did he tell him that?? to whom else did he said that to?? Simon? Tadeas? Mikaele??? Anyway this is a companion piece in [my au](https://archiveofourown.org/series/1598566) where they're sorta friends sorta fwb sorta _~lovers~_ but neither of them admits it bc fuck that.
> 
> Uuuh this is kinda silly but in the tender kind of way, bc I think abt sailors in _something_ and I black out u_u

—I've always wanted to die alone, you know? —He eventually said, apropos to something they've vaguely mentioned in the passing, and he could feel how his companion raised his head to look at him—. Nothing of all that... pesky movement of the nurses, or people crying, and so on. I want to die in my room in the Tundra, listening to the ocean and not a person in sight. And I want Tadeas to throw my body in the farest place away from any land so it becomes part of the ocean, even in death.

Silence painted the scene as he smiled tenderly at the idea, until the other man besides him hummed.

—Not to burst your bubble but I highly doubt anyone would cry for you anyway, Peter. —Peter laughed, candidly.

—Harsh of you to say that, Mikaele! I especially don't want _you_ to be there, I know at least you would cry. —Mikaele looked at him with mock surprise and a smile painted in the lines of his face.

—Oh, so **I** would cry? You've overselling yourself, my friend.

—Your presence would still be incredibly distracting, maybe I would simply want Terminus to finally take a claim of me.

(They were both right, in a way. Mikaele didn't cry when his men were dying, IF they died by regular means. He held on to them, made them focus on him instead of the pain, until death claims them slowly) (He cries afterwards, when the toll and the years caught up, when he's down a bottle of any alcohol he could find and when he's alone) (Peter knows this, he's been there with him. Once)

—Well, then maybe I'll be there and make a scene _just_ for you. —Mikaele laughed, dropping the ashes of his cigarette on a makeshift ashtray as Peter looked at him offended—. I'll be there and I'll cry to annoy you _one last time_. It will be very sad, and I will make so much noise. You won't even hear the sea.

—You wouldn't.

—Yes, I would.

—I'll... You'll regret it. —He flashed his teeth on a grin.

—As If! You'll be dead already.

—Then, I'll haunt you. —Peter took a long drag of his pipe, an antique, before blowing out to the ocean and coincidentally landing on Mikaele's face—. I'll haunt you until you die, and I'd make your remaining life absolutely _miserable_.

—What makes you think you already don't? —Mikaele replied, flapping his arm to the smoke—. My life has been in decline since I've met you.

—You flatter me.

Mikaele cracked a laugh, and Peter couldn't help but smile, just for a bit as he bit his pipe.

(Mikaele's life was on decline for many years now, but Peter's sporadic visits made it ever so slightly bearable with the void of his presence) (Peter felt sporadically haunted by the man's memory as well, feeling the tingle of yearn whenever he diverged paths from him. It made his predilected loneliness even sweeter, sometimes even more so than other people's pain) (Not that any of them would admit such a thing out loud)

The ocean was loud on their ears, and if Peter weren't looking at him, he could forget he wasn't enjoying a night smoke all on his own. But he was looking at him from out the corner of his eye, as he thought on something. Mikaele wasn't even bugged by his abnormal yet solid presence, too absorbed in the cigarette on his lips and deep in thought. He made him feel like he didn't even existed when he was like that. If he were nothing. It was nice.

It took him a few long minutes to speak again, almost softly as to not disturb that near total silence.

—I think I wouldn't mind, actually. —It took Mikaele a second to blink his thoughts away, turning to look at him with a raised eyebrow.

—What?

—Being with you as I die. —He admitted to the night air, with only a hint of inflicting venom to make such a truth bearable—. You're the closest thing I know to being alone without actually... being.

—...Well damn, thank you so much for that. —He frowned at his chuckle—. Screw you, too.

—It really would be a peaceful dead, as long as you don't cry.

—Don't worry; I wouldn't shed a single tear for you.

He laughed again at his still offended posture, when he felt something weird flash on his eyes, just for a second.

—Yeah, well, I hope I die before you.

—Oh, and why is that?

—First of all, because I hate your family. Your funerals are awful. —He raised an eyebrow.

—Very bold of you to think they'll invite you. But go on.

—Oh, no, they wouldn't. But I'd probably go anyway, because fuck 'em. —Peter hummed a laugh as Mikaele finished his cigarette in silence, smoke quickly mitigating as the fresh air blew it away. There was a long beat as Peter urged him to go on without words, eyes feeling like less than a brush on his face. Eventually, though, he spoke again.

—... _And_...?

—...This way when I die, I'll die with the satisfaction of making _you_ cry. Then you'll have your depressing death all alone and everybody wins. —Despite the bitter edge to his words Mikaele smiled a big smile, wrinkles involuntary cracking his eyes, and it took Peter a long second for the words to sink in. When they did, he frowned.

—When have you've _ever_ seen me cry? I wouldn't count on that if I were you. —He laughed.

—Then you better remember how to cry, you piece of shit, I am the only person moronic enough to even like you.

Peter considered using Simon as his alibi, but something told him Mikaele wouldn't accept it. (Plus he knew Simon wouldn't care whether he lived or died) (it was a bit bittersweet, that).

—Maybe I'll use that favor you still owe me. —Mikaele kept talking with a joking smile, back to the ship's rails and arms crossed as he raised his head to be eye to eye to Peter.

—To... what, make me cry? —He huffed a laugh—. That's hardly worth it, my dear.

—There's nothing else you could give me that you haven't already. I simply want your _lonely sailor soul_ to cry for me, is that too much to ask?

His words had that fake serious tone that he could recognize already, but Peter couldn't help but weigh them in for a couple of seconds, at least before he took a bitter drag of his pipe and he coughed, not having realized he already reached the end. In the dark of the night he could still see the shit eating grin his friend was wearing, eyes highly amused, and maybe a little bit fond. Either way when he set aside his pipe he got closer, ideally with the intention to put the few inches of height difference between the two to good work, knowing it would hardly do anything.

—Let's say I do, for a moment. If you died first, I'd _cry_. What happens if I die first? —Images of his dear friend finally accepting the fog crossed his mind, but before he could smile at the idea Mikaele shrugged.

—That's simple. —He said, knocking on his chest with his knuckles—. You give me half of your fortune.

—I... —He suddenly laughed, surprised—. Why on earth would I do that?

—I hardly think you'll use it where you're going. —Peter raised an eyebrow, almost wanting to push but knowing he was smarter and more cautious than to make that kind of deal with him.

—Can't call myself a business man but even I can see that deal is rigged. Is that how you made your fame, Mikaele?

—I am a man of many talents, Peter. —He laughed to himself when a chilly wind interrupted him making him shiver, and they knew it was time to depart. After all they've finished their business a long time ago and their last shared dose of poison, what other reason could they possibly have to drag their conversation? (To bask in the companionship of another man? Ridiculous).

It wasn't too much time after they've found themselves on the small metal bridge to the port, Mikaele grasping at the rails as they stood on different ground once again. Peter saw one second of hesitation on his eyes before he turned to him.

—Well... Try not to die so soon, I guess

—Worried I won't be able to change my will? I'm touched, really.

—That, and I'd hate to see your mother again anytime soon. She hates me. —They laughed a bit, not even bothering to mention that the head of the Lukas family didn't care about anyone enough to actually hate them—. Besides I don't need your ghost following me around. I have enough with you already...

Silence then fell upon them and Peter wished he could call it uncomfortable, the warmth of Mikaele's earthy eyes worse than unwelcome, but as the man took the nape of his head with one hand and kissed him he felt goosebumps at the striking difference in their lips' temperature. Tingles of loneliness started creeping at the back of his head, slowly spreading evenly through his body as their lips parted, stabs of cold and warm making him smile vaguely as Mikaele hummed. Eventually the grip on his shoulder got tighter before letting him go, taking a step back into the shaky bridge.

—Give Tadeas my regards, will you? He deserves some recognition around here.

—So he can join your crew? I'd know better than that.

And to that, Mikaele laughed, one final laugh as he finally made his way into the cold cold night. And Peter felt warmly alone.

(Mikaele dies first, at the end. A job done wrong, an explosion. Occupational hazard. He always knew that was going to be his way to go, but some part of him hoped he could get away from it all before it happened)

(Peter was out dooming people to know, it took many months for him to come back and many more for someone to actually tell him)

(He did cry, in the end. He owed him that)

(Solitude never felt the same way after that, never as sweet, never as warm, but with some time he started to ignore that. He had people to sacrifice, bets to make, bets to win. It was almost as good as the second best)

(Peter died in the Lonely, but he was not Alone.)

(It would almost be funny, if there were anyone else left to laugh)

**Author's Note:**

> the idea of Mikaele hating the Lukases funerals and also the idea of Peter crying when he dies Only because he owed him a favor are two very important scenes from my lonely trinkets fic..... that i have NOT finished yet...... but believe me they're SAD...
> 
> Hope you liked it, even though its like... a footnote on a larger story that you cant read yet! Hope you liked it, nonetheless u_u


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